


Black Satin

by ladyfoxxx



Category: Bandom, Mindless Self Indulgence, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Crossdressing, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Touring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-06
Updated: 2011-03-06
Packaged: 2017-10-16 03:56:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyfoxxx/pseuds/ladyfoxxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard/Lyn-Z crossdressing: Gerard in Lyn-Z's stage outfit - schoolgirl skirt, snug jacket, stockings, panties</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Satin

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [no_tags](http://community.livejournal.com/no_tags/) challenge, 2011

Gerard doesn't even think about what he's doing. He just does it.

He has the presence of mind to lock the bathroom door before he picks up the scrap of crumpled satin sitting on top of the jumbled pile of clothes in the corner. Lying wherever they fell, forgotten before they hit the floor, as Lindsey dragged him into the shower for lipstick flavoured kisses, her nails scraping up his back under the hot spray.

It's not until he's breathing in, the satin pressed against his lips, scent of musk and fabric softener under his nose, that he realizes _oh_ , he's panty-sniffing. He's a panty sniffer. He stares at the panties in his hand a moment and then shrugs. That's okay, he's been worse. He can live with that.

The problem is, it doesn't end there. He wants to touch them, sure, but that's not all. The 'not all' is the problem.

He lets his fingers close tightly around the soft material and leans his head against the door, listening. The door isn't thin enough to hear Lindsey's calm breathing, but if she was moving around he'd know it. She's probably exactly as he left her, rolled to her side and fast asleep, the smooth curve of her shoulder and the dark ink of her full sleeve stark against the bleached white hotel sheets. If he'd pulled back the sheets she'd be as naked as he is now, all their clothes still abandoned in the pile at his feet, and there might even be bruises on her hip bones from where he'd held on while she rode him. His lip quirks up at the thought, thumb stroking absently over the satin.

His eyes drop back to the panties in his hand. They're full brief, high cut and the satin is black and shiny - so fucking hot against her pale skin where she wore them.

They're probably too small for him. He'd probably stretch them out if he put them on, and they'd be so tight, squishy and uncomfortable. They might never return to their original size. He might even ruin them.

He puts them on anyway.

It's strange, the effect it has on him. It's just material after all - how is a scrap of satin any different than boy shorts or boxers anyway? Well, for starters, they're a little softer and a lot tighter than his own underpants. The elastic digs into the soft skin of his hips and across his ass, tight enough to leave marks. He doesn't look in the mirror until they're on, not wanting to watch himself struggle them over his legs, just wanting to see the end result.

Not that the end result is anything amazing. It's just him, and his messy hair, which is sticking out sideways after falling asleep on it wet. It the same pale, unmarked skin, looking bright and a little green under the unforgiving florescent lights, his same slightly sunken chest, skinny legs scattered with hair, and a slightly pudgy waist. The panties don't quite cover his pubic hair, leaving a faint snail trail disappearing into the waistband.

Still, he can feel his cock growing heavier, larger beneath the satin. He shifts his hips a little and catches his own gaze in the mirror. The shower didn't wash away all of his eyeliner so his eyes are smoky and dark. He licks his lips, a little amazed at himself - that he could be getting turned on again so soon, that he's sneaking around in the bathroom playing dress-up with Lindsey's underwear.

"You're a sick motherfucker." He whispers to his reflection, leaning closer, until the edge of the sink presses hard against his crotch. He groans a little in spite of himself, slapping his hand over his mouth even as his hips shift to press harder, wanting more pressure, more contact. Fuck, this is bad, this is so bad. He's leaking inside Lindsey's underwear, he must be. He should take them off before it gets worse.

He doesn't. He leans his head on the mirror, the glass feeling like ice against the heat of his skin, and pushes his crotch against the sink again. The pressure feels good, but it's not enough, nowhere near. He's got the tips of his fingers in the waistband of the too-tight underwear when the bathroom door shakes.

"Gee?" Lindsey's voice is muffled through the door. "You in there?"

Gerard whips his hand away like he's been burned. Shit. _Shit_. He starts to take the panties off but oh - hang on, there's marks from the elastic across his belly and groin and he's still fucking hard. He may as well write _crossdressing freak_ across his belly in Sharpie. Shit. That's a problem.

He gropes around on the floor instead, finding his jeans in the pile of shed clothes and struggling into the sweat-stiff material in record time. He bites his lip hard as he buttons the fly over the straining satin. His breath is still coming in bursts when he eases the door open, finding Lindsey on the other side, looking at him blearily.

"Thought you'd left." Her voice is thick with sleep. And she's naked. Gloriously, beautifully naked, all pale and pure white skin except for the tangle of tattoo lines on her arms and thigh. And the dark patch of hair at the apex of her legs. Fuck she's beautiful.

She scratches a hand through her hair and blinks at him.

"Um. I couldn't, you know, sleep and I. I didn't want to wake you, so..." Seems he's back to stammering as badly as the first time he ever got the stones to talk to her.

"So you're hiding in the bathroom?"

"Um. Yes? Well I thought I'd get my cigarettes and-"

"And get dressed. You got _dressed_?" She seems appalled by the very idea. She leans in the doorway, one arm braced on the doorjamb until her face is hovering right in front of his. He can smell the sweet cherry scent of her perfume, her own musk beneath it, and her lips are so close to his, his mouth is watering. "No getting dressed. Not tonight. Not on our _first_ real hotel night. Okay?" She leans the last inch to take his mouth, robbing him of any reply and kissing him hard.

For a long, long moment, Gerard is lost. Lost to anything that isn't Lindsey's mouth. Her incredible, amazing-

"No wait!" The words burst from his mouth, but he's too late, she's already got her hand down the back of his jeans and her fingers are resting warm on his ass. His _satin-covered_ ass.

"What-?" The word is a hot breath against Gerard's lips as her fingers grope over his ass, skating over the dip between his cheeks, running up the side where the elastic is stretched over his hip.

Gerard can't breathe. This is the moment. He knew it was coming from the first time he managed to make conversation with her. This is the moment where she figures it out, cuts her losses and runs screaming for the hills.

Except she's not running yet. She's still tracing her finger over the bumps where the elastic is stitched to the satin. She's following the run of elastic up over his hip and down again, until her hand is right... it's _right_ over him and oh _god_ she's pressing her palm over his erection through the satin and he's going to... he's going to fucking pass out.

"No way. No _way_." She whispers, the words slipping from her lips as they brush his cheek. "Oh wow." She squeezes and Gerard whines, high pitched and embarrassed, his entire face, neck and chest boiling red. He wants to die, or at least lose consciousness. He might even manage the last one.

"Jesus, Gee." She finally focuses back on him and her eyes are dark, her mouth twitching.

"I’m sorry!" He squeaks. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'll.. . I just. I'll take them off, I-"

"Don't you _dare_." She hisses, attacking his mouth and he _can't_ not kiss back. It's all teeth and sucking; she's kissing him like she wants to devour him whole and he can barely stay upright. She's still got her hand over his cock through the satin and she's kneading him through the material, just rough enough that he can feel it and he can't keep the whine from leaking out of his mouth. "Take your jeans off." She growls the demand against his lips between kisses. "Take them off and show me how you look. Oh my _god_."

"Linds." It's all he's got. A strangled whine that sounds like a plea to his own ears.

"Take them _off_. Oh fuck it." Her hands are on the buttons of his fly before she's even finished saying the words. He nearly reaches for her wrists to stop her but what will that prove? She already knows. He bites his lip and closes his eyes, feeling the weight of his jeans shift as she gets the last button open. Cool air hits the tops of his thighs as the jeans slip downward and his brow furrows as he keeps his eyes squeezed tightly shut. He can't look. He doesn't want to see her face when she figures out she made a bad call with him. There's quirky and artistic and then there's panty-sniffing. Panty- _wearing_.

"Fuck, Gee." She sounds... disgusted? Disturbed? There's got to be a d-word for it. He keeps his eyes closed, stuck frozen where he is, the sink digging painfully into his back as he waits for her to freak out or leave or both - first one then the other. The air moves around him and the next time she speaks her voice comes from lower down, her breath hitting warm on his thigh. "Gee, you look... holy shit." Her hands rest lightly on his thighs, sliding upward and Gerard's struck by how warm her hands are, how awed her voice sounds. He cracks an eye open, heart pounding in his ribcage as her hazy form comes into view through the veil of his eyelashes. She's on her knees, looking up him, her hands working slow circles on his thighs.

He has to open his eyes the rest of the way to assess her expression. And it's not disgusted. Or disturbed. Or any other D word. Well maybe delighted, or fuck, is there a D-word for turned on? Because that's how she looks, and Gerard isn't sure what's stronger - his relief or the surge of answering arousal that shoots through him at her expression. His cock actually jumps, pushing up against the satin, making Lindsey gasp, then she's pressing her face into his groin and breathing in the hot satin. He can feel her cheek through the material as she nuzzles him and he feels like his knees are about to give way, holy _shit_. Her hands slide around to cup his ass, squeezing over the satin and he gasps, a choked noise - desperate and wanting.

She throws her head back and sucks down a deep breath. The satin cools where her breath warmed it and Gerard can't _breathe_ , he can barely keep his hips from bucking forwards and every limb feels ready to liquefy. He's leaning on the sink hard now, knuckles white, barely upright.

"Linds..."

"Gee, can you-" They both speak at the same time, but Gerard cuts himself off, listening hard because he wants to _hear_ her. She tosses her head to get her hair out of her eyes, looking up at him, want written all over her. "Can you put the rest on? The whole outfit? I just, I want to-"

"Yes." There's a telling amount of need in the word, the way it jumps out of his mouth before he's ready for it, but he can't hold back now. He grabs her under the arms and pulls her to her feet, covering her mouth with his, kissing her deep and full and wanting. "Yes. _Yes_." He repeats the word, breathless and slurred against her lips. "I mean I... I'd like that."

Lindsey giggles, high and musical against his mouth. "Okay." She pulls back, framing his face with her fingers and her smile is bright enough to blind him. "Okay, let's do it. Bedroom. Now."

She ducks down to dig through the pile of clothes, giving his ass a light shove in the general direction of the bedroom. He trips on his jeans that are still puddled around his ankles, grabbing the doorjamb to steady himself before kicking them off and stumbling into the dim bedroom. His head is spinning and his body still doesn't feel entirely stable so he drops heavily to sit on the bed, sucking in air and expelling it and just trying to calm down.

He doesn't achieve that aim at all before she's padding into the bedroom after him, still naked and clutching an armful of clothes and her handbag. She dumps them on the bed beside Gerard and he's reaching for her before he realizes it, his hands drawn to her breasts.

She slaps him away, smiling. "Not yet. This first." She pulls her bra from the pile and dangles it in front of his face.

Okay, he knew this was coming. He's already agreed to this, and he's totally going to do it, but he just needs a second here. Sure, okay it's not like he's never worn a bra before. There was that whole genderfuck experiment back in college, but that wasn't this. That was all about sticking it to the heteronormative paradigm, not about getting his rocks off. Okay, it was a little bit about getting his rocks off but it's not like he tells reporters the part of the story where he went home and jerked off into the thrift store bra he'd been wearing all day. That's a little further out in the open than he's willing to go in the name of honesty and fucking gender paradigms.

It's just, doing it this way, where there's no question that it's all about how it makes his dick hard to wear satin - that's a lot. And he and Lindsey haven't been dating that long, if you can call what they're doing dating anyway. So, he just needs a second here.

"Gee?" Lindsey's voice sounds a little unsure. She shakes the bra.

He glances at her and back at the bra. It's black and lightly padded, the material more matte than the panties.

"You change your mind?" Lindsey poses the question carefully. He can hear the note of concern in her voice.

"N- no. No, I just-"

"Good." She smiles wide and climbs onto the bed behind him, guiding his arms through the straps of the bra and fastening it at the back before he has time to protest. Not that he wants to protest. Well, it _is_ a little tight.

"That's a little tight."

"Sorry baby, that's the widest one. You're a little broader than me. It's not like, cutting off your circulation or anything?"

"Um. No."

"Good!" She pats him on the back lightly and goes back to shuffling through the pile of clothes, slapping a white button-up shirt onto his chest and then throwing a plaid skirt into his lap. When he doesn't move fast enough to put them on she steps off the bed to stand in front of him and threads his arms in to the arm holes. Of course that means her breasts are right _there_ and he can't help the way he leans forward to latch onto one of them, sucking gently.

Her hands go still on his arms, tangled up in the cotton fabric of the shirt. "Gee." There's a note of warning in her voice, but she's breathless in that good turned-on way so he trails his mouth down to cover her nipple, sucking harder. " _Gee_." Her voice pitches higher, then she's climbing into his lap, her fingers cradling his head as she arches into his mouth. "Fuck. We're never gonna finish if you keep doing that."

He makes a muffled noise of assent, letting his teeth scrape a little. She sucks in a breath and lets out a groan that sounds frustrated. Fuck, does he know frustrated. He shifts his hips a little, still so fucking hard in the too-tight panties and there isn't enough pressure on his dick. He grabs her waist, trying to get her to shift her weight down, to sit on him, but she squeaks and wiggles away.

He can't help the disappointed noise that leaks from his mouth when her breast leaves his mouth. Lindsey is made of stone, obviously, because she just hums at him, tugging the shirt closed so she can get it buttoned.

"Linds," He whines.

"Shut up. Stand up." She tugs at his arms and Gerard wants to protest, but at the same time he finds it stupidly hot when she gets bossy like this, so he struggles to his feet. He looks down to where the shirt is stretched across his chest, pulled tight at the buttons because he _is_ a lot broader than she is. It probably looks ridiculous.

"This must look really dumb." He fingers one of the taut buttonholes.

"It doesn't. Trust me. I'll show you in a minute." Lindsey's distracted, wrapping the plaid skirt around his waist. He's too big for it, so she can't button it, so she detaches one of the decorative safety pins from the front and uses that to fasten it instead. It sits slightly angled on his hips, tight around his waist.

Despite the constricting underwear he can still see the tenting in the front of the skirt where he's hard. He presses down briefly with his hand, even the light touch making his breath catch and his eyes flutter. When he opens his eyes again she's watching him, her eyes dark, hair messy. She licks her lips, then her hand follows his, pressing the heel to his erection through the fabric and he can't help the groan that bubbles from his mouth - harsh, needy, breathless. It isn't enough, he bucks up into her hand, catching his arm behind her head to pull her in for a kiss that she allows, melting their mouths together with a satisfied noise.

She kisses him soft and thorough and he's so lost in it he doesn't feel the tie going around his nape until she's leaning back to tie it, her fingers moving through the motions as expertly as Frank when he ties Gerard's for him.

"You don't give up, do you?" His voice sounds weird, deeper and breathier. He keeps his fingers in her hair, massaging gently.

"Would you? We're so close. Come on. Just get the vest on and we'll see if you can fit in my boots."

"Linds-" His voice trembles with want. He lets his body sway closer, ready for the game to be over. He just wants to skip straight to the fucking already.

"Come _on_." She growls, ducking out of his arms so fast he feels cold. She grabs the red vest from the bed and tosses it at him. "Nearly there."

He shrugs into the vest, grumbling. "Such a fucking tease."

She shoves him back onto the bed. He lands heavily on his ass, sprawled, feet dangling.

"Oh _I'm_ the tease?" She challenges, crawling up between his legs, trailing fingers over his exposed thigh. "I'm not the one in the tiny skirt."

"No, you're the one who's _naked_. And it's really fucking distracting." Gerard punctuates the statement by flapping his hand on the sheets.

Lindsey leans in until her lips are a breath from his. "You're distracting." She counters, her voice deep and breathy. " _So_ fucking distracting and if you don't put my goddamn boots on already I'm not going to suck your cock tonight."

The whine that leaks from Gerard's lips is pathetic and loud and totally involuntary.

"Exactly. Come on." She slips away before Gerard has a chance to kiss her again. He sits up reluctantly, far too aware of the press of his arousal into his belly under the skirt. He still can't quite get his head around what he's doing here, what _they_ are doing, but they've come this far and the completionist in him can see how close the finish line is, so he takes the black knee sock Lindsey hands him and struggles it over his foot and calf.

Lindsey has to unlace her knee-high boots to get them over his calves. They're still too small and his feet feel squished inside them, but it's not about comfort, right? He bites his lip to keep from wincing as Lindsey re-laces her boots over his legs, her hands moving with practiced speed over lacings.

"I can't believe we're doing this." He sighs the words out, trailing his fingers through the end of her hair, watching the dark locks bounce of his fingers.

She ties off the second boot and grins up at him. "Believe it." She bounces to her feet and he starts to follow her up, ready to find a mirror already, but she pushes him back down, climbing into his lap again, handbag clutched in one hand. "We're not done."

"Fuck." The word slips out without permission and his head drops forwards, forehead on her shoulder. "This is like torture." He means it. Having her so close and so _bare_ and not being able to touch her, the whole _not yet, not yet_. It's getting to him.

"Just a little make up." She presses her hand to his forehead, guiding his head up. "I'll be quick, promise."

His hands settle on her thighs and slide upward, over the soft skin of her ass to dance his fingers over her waist. She shivers a little under his hands, a tiny groan in the back of her throat. She sucks in a breath. "Real quick. " She adds, nearly a whisper.

"Go on then." He grins at her.

"Right. Yes." She gives herself a shake and digs through her bag, coming back with lipstick and an eyeliner pencil. He suffers the eyeliner easily enough - he's put it on himself so many times that he doesn't blink or anything. When she swaps the pencil for the lipstick case, though, he intervenes, grabbing her hand and leaning in to take her mouth in a thorough kiss. Once the lipstick is on she won't want him to mess it up for at least a while, so he'll take it while he still can. She lets him, a little mewling noise slipping out between their lips as he tries to taste her.

She's the one who breaks it in the end, pulling back and rubbing her thumb over his lips to dry them off before coming at him with the lipstick. He takes a breath and tries to hold still for her. It's tricky. There's a strange bubbling excitement at the idea of sporting Lindsey's trademark red lips. And her face is so close to his, a little furrow of concentration between her eyebrows as she strokes the thick colour onto his lips.

She pulls the lipstick back. "Do this." She presses her lips together and makes a kissing noise.

He copies it and immediately cracks up laughing, ducking his head, cheeks burning.

That makes Lindsey giggle too, but only for a moment, then she's pressing gentle fingers under his chin, tipping his head up. "Hey. Let me see you."

Her voice is soft, gentle. He straightens up and something in her gaze makes the giggle rush out of his chest, leaving him nearly breathless. She's looking at him, eyes big and dark, the light from the bathroom hitting the back of her head like a halo. She looks so... so-

"Beautiful." She whispers, looking right at him.

"Yeah?" His chest feels tight, his voice coming out as a squeak.

"Yeah." She whispers, stroking a gentle hand through his hair. "Fuck, yeah. Come on." She stands up and drags him to his feet, pulling him across the room to the full length mirror on the wardrobe door. He stumbles a little in the unfamiliar, too-small boots. She places him in front of the mirror and stands between him and his reflection, fluffing his hair and straightening his shirt and skirt before stepping around to stand behind him. Then there's nothing between him and his reflection.

His gaze traces up from the too-small, wide-laced boots over the black knee socks up to his knees, then the bare expanse of his white thighs right up to the hemline of the red and black plaid skirt. The too-short skirt, peaked at the front where he's still so fucking hard. His eyes skip upwards to the white, short-sleeved button up shirt, stretched tight across his chest, the black tie sitting slightly crookedly across the taut buttons. The red vest sits wider on him than it does on Lindsey and his hair is still messy and wild. The eyeliner Lindsey's applied is heavy on his lids and light underneath, more girl-ish or perhaps drag-queenish, where he'd usually apply it mostly underneath. The red lipstick is bright, garish and unmissable.

He looks like a guy wearing clothes that don't fit him. He looks like a messy, rushed sketch of Lindsey on stage. He looks-

"Fucking _hot_." Lindsey whispers, right by his ear. He flicks his gaze to her reflection in the mirror, where she's watching him over his shoulder. She looks hungry. Transfixed. He follows her gaze back to his reflection, staring dark eyed back at him.

She's so, so fucking right.

"You make such a pretty girl." She whispers the words into his shoulder and they leak hot though the light cotton of the shirt. He closes his eyes, feeling all the places where the clothes touch his skin, tight elastic across his back, cotton stretched thin over his chest, hot, damp satin pressing against his dick. Her hands slide under the shirt, skating upwards, palms pressing over his nipples as she grinds into him from behind. Her breasts press heavy and full against his back, her mouth hot on his neck.

"Fuck, Gee." She rolls her hips against him again and he shudders, eyes flying open to see raw want reflected back at him from the two faces in the glass.

Lindsey's hands skate down his chest, one hand lifting his skirt, the other settling over the bulge in the black panties and the groan that's been growing in Gerard's throat bubbles loose, tumbling out of his mouth as he shudders.

He reaches behind, surprised to find his arms still work and fits his hands to Lindsey's thighs, up over the soft skin of her hips and down again until his fingers are brushing between her legs. The lightest touch has her moaning into the back of his neck and _fuck_ she's wet. So fucking wet. It's all down her inner thighs, soaking the curls at the top of her pussy. He angles his hand so he can stroke a finger between her lips and she shudders against him, the hand that's holding his skirt up gripping his waist like she might lose her balance.

He catches her eye in the mirror and strokes again, watching her reflection as she moans, bucking into his hand, getting his fingers slick. She gets her own back quickly enough, shoving her hand inside his underwear - skin to skin, taking him in hand, hard and leaking, and _squeezing_.

"Shit." He groans, rocking on his feet, so unbalanced on the block-heeled boots.

"Yes." She whispers back, working her hand over his dick. She shoves his panties down to his thighs with her free hand and if Gerard was looking for a genderfuck he's fucking got one. There's something twisted and beautiful about the scene reflected back at him in the mirror. Him in his schoolgirl ensemble, panties twisted low around his thighs, and Lindsey working his hard dick under the short plaid skirt. It's obscene and filthy and perfect. Fuck, he could come just from this.

He's too close, in fact.

"Wait, Linds, Jesus." His voice breaks over the words, high-pitched and desperate. She stills her hand, meeting his eyes in the mirror, and he sees the briefest flash of her wicked smile before she steps in front of him and drops to her knees.

Yeah, he's really going to pass out.

"Lindsey. Fuck." His voice is peaking now, so high it sounds unfamiliar and she's not paying any attention. She anchors her hands on his hips and sinks her mouth - hot, wet, _fuck_ \- right over him, all the way to the back of her throat. He's pulsing between her lips, every atom of his body vibrating, so close, so fucking close. His gaze is hazy but he can see her in the mirror, her pale curves reflected, her dark head half covered by the short skirt, moving slow and purposeful.

It feels amazing, incredible, too good. He's choking out messy noises, the arousal throbbing up through him too fast - too soon. He has to stagger backwards, out of her reach and grip his dick tight and low.

"No wait, not yet." He pants, scrambling for words. "So fucking. Jesus. Linds, you. You're. Fuck, come here. Come here." He tugs at her arm, pulling her to her feet and smothering her mouth in a kiss that tastes like lipstick. When she tries to reach for his dick again he catches her at the wrist, kissing her harder, messier. He's got to do this right. It's too much. "Not yet. Not yet. Seriously babe, I'm gonna. If I let you, I'm gonna." He stutters the words out, smashed between their lips. He's so fucking oversensitised, he can feel every strand of hair brushing his face, his skin's hot all over and he's vibrating with want. His fingers are damp around his cock where he's holding tight, tight as he can and he's swaying so much in the boots it's amazing he's even upright.

"Shhhh, it's okay. It's okay." She whispers the words against his cheek, leaning in close and he can feel the press of her breasts through the thin cotton of the shirt. He just wants to grab her and grind against her until he comes but _no_ , he's not going to. He's going to do this right.

"Come on. Come on." He's moving before he even realizes it, stumbling toward the bed and herding her in front of him. She goes easily enough, giggling when he lays her out on her back, loose and so comfortable in her own skin, bare and beautiful. He'd be jealous if the view wasn't so amazing. He crawls up to kneel between her legs on the bed, dragging his mouth lightly across her breasts, down the line of her torso, over her stomach to hover over her cunt. She's so wet. He can smell the want and it's making his mouth water.

"Gerard. Just-"

He dives in, not waiting for instruction, just latches his mouth over her clit and sucks. She arches beautifully off the bed, letting out a groan that vibrates under his lips. He loves the way she tastes, the way she twitches and shifts beneath him. He peers up at her, finds her looking right back down at him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, lipstick smudged around her mouth.

"You should see yourself." She drawls the words out, low and rough. "You look fucking amazing." She reaches a hand down, sliding her fingers into his hair. "So fucking gorgeous."

He moans his assent into her skin and she trembles under him, her fingers tightening in his hair. He sucks again, rhythmically, grinding his dick into the sheets in time, the panties still tangled around his knees, constricting. She bucks her hips up, riding his face and groaning.

He closes his eyes and gives himself over to it, her scent, her taste, the soft flesh under his tongue. He slides one hand up her inner thigh, skating over the slick flesh to press two fingers inside her, up and in until he finds the spot that makes her moan loader and writhe down on his fingers. He peeks up at her again and her eyes are closed now, head thrown back, one hand over her mouth not containing the long moan she's making, her fingertips smeared with lipstick. She looks wanton and undone and so beautiful.

He slides his free hand up her torso to palm her breast as he sucks her clit. She's starting to tighten rhythmically around his fingers now and he knows she's getting close, can taste in on her, feel it thrumming through her body and he wants to pull it free, watch her come apart.

"Fuck. _Fuck_. Oh fuck, Gee." Her voice pitches higher with every word. He curls his fingers inside her, sucks harder, lets his teeth brush over her clit. She starts to shake, her fingers gripping tight in his hair, hips shoving against his mouth now, rough and desperate. "Gee, please. Shit, shit, shit. _Please_."

He closes his eyes and she's all he can feel, all he can smell. He's willing it, wanting her to break, every muscle in his body as tense as if he was the one on the brink. He sucks and strokes, harder, faster, lost in the pulse around his fingers, her throaty groans in his ears as she writhes down on him, once, twice, three times before she comes with a cry, clenching around his fingers and flooding his mouth.

He can't help the satisfied groan he makes deep in his throat, his mouth still locked over her cunt as he strokes her down from it. She's still buzzing like a livewire, aftershocks pulsing around his fingers and he turns his head a little to nuzzle into her inner thigh, grinning madly and kissing the soft skin. Her taste is thick in his mouth, all over his face and he loves it. He rests his chin on her hip, watching her, the way she tosses her head, eyelashes still fluttering, as he strokes gentle fingers over her still-trembling clit.

"Fuck yeah." The words slip out of his mouth, awed and breathy.

She tilts her head to look at him, cheeks stained pink, damp hair sticking to her face. "Gee." Her voice is wrecked. He dances his fingers over her clit again and she chokes off a groan, grabbing his wrist, _hard_

"You're trying to kill me." She stutters the words out.

He just grins and strokes again, smiling so hard his eyes crease up. She makes an impatient noise and grabs his hand away. "Don't just. Fuck. C'mere. Come here." She gropes a hand downward, finding his shoulder and tugging until he crawls up, leaning over her on his elbows.

As soon as he's close enough she's kissing him, wet and messy, tongue plunging in to taste herself, writhing up against him. He kisses back just as desperately, like he needs her to breathe, letting his body crush down on hers. His dick is trapped between their bodies and he can't help grinding it into her hip, feeling the drag of the plaid skirt against the sensitive skin. She wraps her legs around his hips and her arms around his neck, arching up to grind on him and _fuck_. He can't get enough of her. He has to get inside her. Now.

He gropes for the condoms, they're somewhere over _there_ but he can't tear his mouth from hers long enough to focus on finding them. It's fine though, because Lindsey's got some kind of homing beacon and she's pressing one into his hand before the frustrated noise makes it past his throat.

He breaks his lips from hers, panting, "Yeah?"

"Yes. _Yes_. Hurry _up_." She slaps his ass and steals the condom packet back, ripping it open with her teeth and handing it back to him. "Come on."

"So impatient." He pulls the condom free, nearly dropping it before finally fumbling it on. Fuck, even his own fingers through the latex feel too good. He's not going to last.

"Gerard." She says his name softly, part plea, part command and it's like time stops for a moment when he looks down at her. Her face is flushed, her eyes dark, her hair a messy halo and she's looking up at him so intensely it makes his breath catch in his throat, any words or witty comments locking up. He leans over her on one elbow, easing closer until they're a breath apart.

Lindsey slides one hand behind his ear, into his hair. The other slips down his back, brushing over the vest and skirt until she finds the bare skin of his ass and grips. She hooks her legs up around his waist, arching up off the bed, lifting her hips until he can feel her heat pressing against his cock.

"Fuck." He has to close his eyes and lean his forehead down to touch hers. He lets her hands guide him, pressing his hips down, pushing gently into her heat until he starts to slide in. "Fuck, Lindsey." The words are barely recogniseable. Lindsey's still gripping his ass, urging him down and he follows the movement, easing in all the way. She's still tense from her orgasm and it feels amazing, hot and tight around him. He's shaking with the effort of not moving, wanting to feel it _all_.

"Gee." Her voice is barely a whisper, a puff of air against his lips.

He pries his eyes open to find her smiling up at him, wicked and soft. Then she moves her hips up and he's moving with her, thrusting into her, sighing into her lips.

Her fingers grip his hair, his ass and they find a rhythm that has them both groaning and panting into each other's mouths. Gerard knew he wasn't going to last and it's becoming more obvious with every motion that he's on the brink, so ready to shatter it's embarrassing. He grits his teeth and tries to slow his thrusts, wanting to draw it out, maybe even get Lindsey over the line one more time. He's groping between their bodies for her clit when she tugs at his hair, whispering, "Gee. Check it out."

He blinks his eyes open to find her looking to the side. When he follows her gaze he finds she's looking at their reflection in the long mirrors of the wardrobe. It's a real sight - her naked and laid out, long legs wrapped around him. Except it doesn't look like a _him_ in the mirror. The way the boots lengthen his legs, the fall of the skirt giving a hint of ass, the rucked- up shirt and rumpled bra giving the illusion of cleavage. The dark liner around his eyes, the red smear of his mouth, all feminine. The picture in the mirror doesn't match what he's feeling, the way his dick's pulsing inside her, the very male stink of sweat hanging off him. It's a head fuck in the best way.

"Holy shit." He can't help cracking a grin at her in the glass, before turning to look at her for real. "I knew I'd make a hot lesbian."

"You don't even need a strap-on- _ah_." She loses the rest of the thought because he's found her clit, rolling it under his thumb as he starts to thrust again, _slowly_. So fucking slowly. "You. Fuck. You _are_ trying to kill me," She stutters the words out, breathless and panting.

"No way." He's hanging on by a thread now, shaking with the effort of holding back, his thumb working over the hard nub. "Can't kill you. You'd haunt me. Like some fucking sexy spectre-"

"Oh my god, shut _up_." She groans, capturing his mouth and doing a pretty effective job of kissing him silent. He gets lost in it almost immediately, licking into her mouth, nipping at her lips. It takes every ounce of willpower not to thrust mindlessly into her and let go, but he hangs on, moving his hips slow, working her clit with his fingers until she moaning into his mouth, high little noises of want.

Her noises get higher and higher and mixing with his name until she's begging. "Gee. Please. Please. _Shit_."

He's shaking, sweating and panting into her lips, eagerly, "Yeah? Linds?"

"Yes. Yes. Yesyesyes." She trills, desperate and thready. That's when he feels it, the first trembling pulse of her orgasm around his dick. And _fuck_. That's all he needs. He lets go, thrusting into her faster, harder and she arches into it, meeting every thrust, clinging to his neck and gasping.

He doesn't stop rubbing her clit until she's coming apart, clenching around him and shuddering under him and that's all the permission he needs to lose himself. His hips go elastic and he groans her name into her throat, long and drawn out as he pushes into her, faster, faster. When he comes it's like her orgasm shakes up and through him and he clings to her when it hits, her moan hot in his ear as he breaks apart.

He comes to, gasping, her hair stuck to his face, every cell in his body vibrating.

"Fuck. Linds. Fucking wow." He pants, pressing his elbows into the mattress so he can lean up and look at her. She's flushed and giggly, lipstick smears around her mouth. "That was intense."

She hums happily, ending with a little growly noise in her throat. It's completely adorable. He dips his head to kiss her, light and soft. The tightness of the bra strap across his chest brings him back to where they are, what he's wearing, what they've done.

"Thanks." He whispers against her mouth, kissing her again for good measure.

When he comes up for air she's looking up at him with a little crease between her brows. "What for?"

He wrinkles his nose a little, digging for words. "For not, you know, freaking out. It's not exactly normal. Is the thing."

"I'm fine with not normal. Not normal is way more interesting than normal. And hotter too." She grins, the same wide smile that caught his attention the first time he saw her and he could blame the endorphins for the way his heart picks up, but he's pretty certain that's not it.

He kisses her once more before pulling out carefully and tying off the condom. He dumps it in the trash and rolls onto his back beside her, feeling fucked out and sweaty as hell.

"I've sweated all over your clothes." He plucks uselessly at the fabric, scrunching up his nose.

She leans in and sniffs. "Mmm, you sure have. I think I'll wear them like this tomorrow. Smell like you the whole set."

"That's disgusting."

"Don't lie. You'd love it." She grins at him with total confidence. And it's weird but in some animalistic and territorial way he _likes_ the idea of her smelling like him.

Still, he hums, non-committal. "If you say so."

She runs her fingers down the seam of the shirt, skipping over the skirt to slip one finger under the elastic of the panties and tugging on them. "Except, I won't wear these."

"Too gross for you?" Ha, he knew she had limits.

"No." She smiles brightly, shaking her head. She leans a hand onto his chest, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial tone. "No. _You'll_ be wearing those."

 

~end


End file.
